Analects | Interpreting a purge

Where Bo goes

Whether through caution or incompetence, apparatchiks are sending mixed signals about the standing of an ousted leader

By J.M. | BEIJING

WHEN he lost his job as the chief of the Communist Party for the south-western region of Chongqing on March 15th, Bo Xilai became the third member of the ruling Politburo to suffer such ignominy since the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989. But he is the first to enjoy open support among members of the public even after his dismissal. The party, which normally tries to suppress any expression of sympathy for purged leaders, is either failing this time, or else it is not trying very hard. It could well be a sign that Chinese leaders themselves are divided over how to handle Mr Bo's case and the public reaction to it.

Uniquely among Chinese politicians in the post-Tiananmen period, Mr Bo had acquired a vocal and genuinely admiring fan club. Silencing this group will not be easy. It happens to include people whom party traditionalists regard as hailing from the most venerable sectors of the population: workers laid off from state-owned factories, retired cadres, and intellectuals who remain doggedly committed to old-fashioned communist ideals. Before Mr Bo was sacked, articles praising him and his “Chongqing model” were a staple of websites controlled by die-hard Maoists in China. These enjoy a degree of protection from official wrath, thanks to their staunch defence of party rule and their careful avoidance of any criticism of the president, Hu Jintao. Some officials working in the most conservative parts of the bureaucracy, such as the party's powerful Publicity Department, are probably sympathetic with the websites' views.

Not since the 1980s, when Hu Yaobang became the darling of those on the opposite end of the political spectrum, has an individual leader enjoyed such open adulation as Mr Bo. In Zhouwangcheng square in the central city of Luoyang, hundreds of kilometres from Chongqing, Mr Bo's admirers have frequently put up posters praising him. They often gather to sing “red songs” of the kind that Mr Bo is famous for loving. Their fondness for Mr Bo might seem a little odd given his privileged air as the son of a veteran revolutionary, Bo Yibo, (and Mr Bo's Maoist revival may itself seem odd, and perhaps politically opportunistic, given Mao's own one-time persecution of the Bo family).In their eyes however, Mr Bo's policies in Chongqing, from the construction of social housing on a massive scale to his war on organised crime, represented a bold attempt to address some of the grimmer side-effects of China's cut-throat capitalism.

For several days after Mr Bo's dismissal, some Maoist websites ceased functioning. It is unclear whether they were ordered to shut down, or whether they prudently decided to keep quiet while they assessed the political mood. But they are now back in business, not in the least cowed, it would seem, by the disgrace of their hero. (This notwithstanding allegations, as reported by the New York Times, that Mr Bo attempted to prevent a corruption probe involving his family). This outspokenness must be embarrassing to Chinese leaders. Officials' nervousness of any discussion of Mr Bo's case is evident in recent attempts by Chinese microblog services to block searches of his name.

Articles on Maoist websites are far less cautious in their portrayal of the prime minister, Wen Jiabao, than they are in their references to Mr Hu. Many of them virtually drip with sarcasm when it comes to Mr Wen. Their target in recent days has been a series of remarks Mr Wen made at a press conference a day before Mr Bo's dismissal was announced. Most remarkably, he gave warning that without political reform China could face another Cultural Revolution and urged Mr Bo (without naming him) to “reflect” on the recent scandal surrounding the city's deputy mayor, Wang Lijun, who in February took refuge for a day in an American consulate. Mr Wang was sacked on the same day as Mr Bo and is now under investigation. “Reflecting will only take people nearer to the truth and boost their support for Bo Xilai,” said one article on a website called Utopia (here, in Chinese).

Another post on the same website (here, in Chinese) took up a theme that has been prominent recently in China's mainstream media, namely the need to maintain direct party control over the armed forces. It stressed the importance of the army's remaining loyal to the party. It said the army must “carry out their duties to protect the country in the face of flagrant selling-out of the country's interests by traitorous running dogs”. The article was published on March 22nd after days of (completely unsubstantiated) rumour in Beijing about a coup attempt by a close ally of Mr Bo in the Politburo's Standing Committee, Zhou Yongkang (see this story in the Financial Times). The article could be read as a hint that the armed forces should indeed be taking Mr Bo's side.

The nationwide upheaval of 1989 started when supporters of Hu Yaobang took to the streets to mourn his death, two years after he had been dismissed as party chief. But any such displays of sympathy on behalf of Mr Bo are highly unlikely this time. The Maoists could probably mobilise protests involving disparate groups of marginalised citizens. But they enjoy little support among the urban middle class or intellectuals. And they would likely resist causing unrest, for fear of appearing disloyal to the party. These are, however, volatile times politically as the party prepares for a sweeping transfer of power at a congress late this year.

On March 23rd, the party's main mouthpiece, the People's Daily, published an article on its front page (here, in Chinese) which says that Mr Zhou sent a letter to a conference in Shanghai in which he expressed support for Mr Hu's leadership. This may have been an attempt to scotch rumours that he was involved in a coup, though it has been widely noted that Mr Zhou did not turn up for the meeting in person. And then Mr Zhou was to be spotted again on an evening broadcast of CCTV, on “Xinwen Lianbo”, as if to prove that he is not under house arrest, or anything of the sort. The rapid spread of these rumours through Chinese microblogs has been a sign that at least some Chinese have begun to expect the unexpected in China's secretive politics.


(Picture credit: AFP, Utopia)

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